Meghan's Dad Blogs Again

The San Lorenzo v Boca Juniors match was just as Meghan described it--chaos in the streets, passion in the stadium, and a happy crowd as the hated glory boys in blue and yellow fell to the home town blue and red. We gringo tourists were San Lorenzo fans for the day and the locals were pleased to have us there and shook our hands and wished us well after the match. Good thing Meghan sent her Boca shirt home with Karen and me a few weeks ago because--dumb us--we did not realize the game was at San Lorenzo until our bus zigged when we expected it to zag and we head out into the low rent suburbs. That shirt would have been a real problem. Meghan did a great job on the San Lorenzo songs and the translation seems good to me, but she did miss the most important chant of the afternoon. My Spanish is still shaky but even I know that "Boca Puta" is the crudest, most vulgar insult possible. Chanted by 30 or 40 thousand fanatics, it is something to ponder. No wonder they keep the home fans locked up for 30 minutes until the visitors get out of town. Meghan mentioned that we thought long and hard about paying the premium price for the tourist futbol experience. I am glad we did because getting to San Lorenzo to buy tickets at the stadium and then getting there on game day and into the right stand would have been a full on adventure. And if we made the mistake of getting the wrong tickets it could be ugly. Two of my classmates went to matches at "La Bombonera" and each reported that the zealots in the upper decks pissed on the opposing fans below. No wonder they lock in the locals after the match. The game we saw was an important one between top local teams--San Lorenzo is currently just ahead of Boca in the clausura (2nd part of the season), but the real fun is this weekend when River and Boca meet and then next week when River and San Lorenzo meet in the Libertadores (championship tourney of Latin American futbol). I am not much of a sports fan but I am very happy we went to this game. The energy and enthusiasm of the crowd made me realize this is not a sporting event or entertainment--this is the most important thing in the lives of thousands of people. Even if you don't like sports, when you are in Buenos Aires, go to a futbol match.

San Lorenzo vs Boca Juniors

" Porque yo.... soy hincha del CICLON... te quiero ver campeón dar la vuelta otra vez... quiero ganar esa Copa Libertadores... y demostrarles porque somos MATADORES... por que yo te quiero de verdad... te sigo adonde vas... adonde quieras ir....el sentimiento no se compra ni se vende... yo nací CUERVO y seré CUERVO hasta la muerte..... "

"Because I...I am a fan of the CYCLONE...I want to see the champions return another time...I want to win this Copa Libertadores... and show them why we are KILLERS...because I really want you to... I follow wherever you go...wherever you want to go...the feeling that you cannot buy or sell...I was born a CROW and will be a CROW until the death..."

San Lorenzo fan song

For Dad’s last weekend in town, we decided to experience an Argentinean futbol match. Originally, we wanted to purchase tickets and make our own way to a game but after long consideration of the logistical and safety difficulties of this plan, we purchased tickets with a tourist company to see the Boca Juniors and San Lorenzo play on Sunday. We were quite excited about the game because both teams were doing well in the rankings and Boca Jrs is an extremely famous futbol club.
The game was an all day affair. Although the kick-off wasn’t until 4 20, we were picked up from our apartment shortly after 1 pm. We sat in the van while it circled through the one way streets of the neighbourhood picking up other tourists. The people on our tour were primarily English speakers. Eight months ago when I took a similar tour, to the far less important match of Racings vs Newell’s Old Boys, I was the only anglophone.
Dad and I had been under the impression that we would be attending the match in the famous Bonbonera (or candy box) stadium of the Boca Juniors but instead we found ourselves turning away from the neighbourhood of La Boca and heading out into the suburbs of Buenos Aires that don’t make it on to the tourist maps. Short, run down buildings appeared and the sidewalks became unpaved. The San Lorenzo property, which contained much more than just the stadium, was a huge complex covering several blocks. The futbol teams here function as giant social and recreational clubs for the community. Each club has junior teams, picnic areas, and even a school for promising young players.
The traffic around the stadium was pandemonium. The San Lorenzo stadium was too far out of the city centre to be easily accessible by public transit and the low-density nature of the neighbourhood and the size of the San Lorenzo complex limited the number of people who could easily walk to the game, forcing people to drive. Parking was available inside the heavily fortified official parking lot but many people decided to pay less to park on the grassy medians and verges outside the stadium. The result of this verge parking and a general lack of respect for basic traffic laws meant that there was general gridlock for several blocks surrounding the stadium. Our van parked in the official parking lot and we walked to the stadium. At the entrance gate we were patted down (and our bags were searched) before being admitted into the stadium through a turn style. Our seats were just right of centre field and quite high up. However, the steep angle of the stadium meant that even so high up we were quite close to the action. When we arrived, the San Lorenzo portion of the stadium already had a sizeable crowd. In the standing room (the section directly behind each team’s goal, which is generally reserved for the real fanatics) the fans were busily erecting ribbons and banners which seemed illogically large for easy viewing of the game. The stadium was much less fortified than the stadium at Racings but it did still have a high barbed wire fence surrounding the field and separating different sections of the crowd.
We watched the reserve teams (the players not playing in the premier game) were play the second half of their match. As they played, the stadium filled more and more. Rolls of paper similar to cash register tape were distributed to the crowd and vendors walked through the crowd with trays of coca cola, peanuts, hamburgers, and popsicles. The one item that was conspicuously not for sale was alcohol, a wise strategy in crowd control. We had been at the stadium for an hour and a half when the crowd in the now almost entirely full San Lorenzo section began screaming and booing. We looked over to see the Boca Jrs fans arriving with drums, flags, and banners. The fans filled up the Boca Juniors standing section and began erecting their own banners and ribbons. Both sides began to sing their team songs loudly. Right before the game began, when it appeared as if the San Lorenzo standing room would not be able to hold another person, the hard-core San Lorenzo fans arrived. They entered like the Boca fans with drums and flags but the crowd greeted them as if they were rock stars. Once this group had squeezed themselves between the rest of the fans and the fence the game could begin.
When the players finally took to the field the stadium went wild. All of the paper rolls, which had been distributed, were thrown down to the field, fireworks went off, and the stadium shook from the general fervour of the crowd as they sang, jumped and cheered their team into the stadium. Not surprisingly the Boca Juniors players were booed strongly as they came on to the field. The game began and San Lorenzo scored quickly. The crowd was extremely happy and remained active, jumping up and down, screaming, chanting, and singing, the entire game. San Lorenzo won 1-0 and after the game the Boca Jrs fans were let out of the stadium almost half an hour before the gates opened on our section.
If it was possible there was even more pandemonium in the traffic on the way out of the stadium than there was on the way in. In the parking lot there were no people employed to direct the traffic. Cars turned whichever way they wanted and mixed with the happy revellers returning to their own cars. It was a parking lot in which it was an advantage to have an old dented car, but then again that holds true in the entire city. The experience of an Argentinean soccer match is far removed from any other sporting event that I have ever attended and well worth the effort if you are ever in Buenos Aires.
This week is an especially important week for futbol here in Argentina. Several big games in the South American tournament Copa Libertadores have been played and this Sunday a super classic game between (arguably) the two most important teams in Argentina Boca Jrs and River Plate will be played. This is a game promises to empty the streets of Buenos Aires. Tickets are practically impossible to come by and the game has been hyped on almost every TV channel.
On Wednesday, dad left to return to Canada. I remained here but I will not be far behind him. I return to Canada myself in only 10 days. Until I leave I will be continuing with my Spanish lessons. Many of my friends here in Buenos Aires have left to return home and I think that I might just finally ready to follow them.

The Scam

Early Sunday afternoon, dad and I went out for our usual weekend walk into undiscovered regions of the city. We had just crossed the massive 9 Julio, not more than 5 minutes walk from our apartment, when I felt the wet splat of what could only be bird droppings on my ear and shoulder. Immediately, the man and the woman walking behind us ran to help, gesturing to the sky and offering tissues. I was instantly suspicious. I only needed a whiff and a quick glance of the green substance splattered from my hair to my feet to realise that it was not any form of bird byproduct and that it definitely had not come from above. The couple had moved in closer and were attempting to "help us" (read rob us) by wiping us (yes dad was covered also) off. We both made evasive movements by turning in circles and told the people that we did not need their help and that we would return to our apartment to get cleaned up. Sensing that their act had been discovered the pair disappeared as fast as they had appeared and dad and I retreated, in the opposite direction, to the fountain in the middle of 9 de Julio to assess the damages. The whole thing was over in less than 30 seconds. We quickly checked our backpacks and pockets to see if anything was missing. All ipods, cameras, and wallets were there but we were covered in flecks of aquamarine slime that smelled distinctly of the dentist's office (dad was convinced in was relish).
We washed off as best we could in the fountain and decided to continue with our walk. As we repassed the scene of the crime, we looked up to see the smooth, windowless, balconyless edifice of the building and were confirmed in our opinion that whatever we were covered in it had not come from above. We walked in silence for a few minutes, each of us brooding over the events in our minds before we broke out into our usual chatter. An hour later the incident was almost entirely forgotten but the bitter, tangy odor of green slime followed us until we returned home.

Guest Blog

Hola Amigos,

This is Meghan's Dad guesting today.

After sharing a tiny apartment for the last 2 1/2 weeks Meghan and I continue to be friends. Our school schedules are different and that makes a big difference. My classes go from 9:00 until 1:30 while Meghan does not start until 2:30. That gives us time to live our own lives.

School has been great. The pace is rapid and we get several new concepts every lesson. It's hard to know how much progress I have made because I usually can't bring these new ideas forward fast enough to use them in "real life" conversations. But, I am able to do the basic stuff so I don't feel like a complete fool when I am in a correro, tienda or restaurante. I was amazed yesterday when our phone rang and I was able to explain that the previous tenant has gone and we don't know where she went--easy in concept but a breakthrough for me at conversation pace on the phone.

I buy the paper every day and have learned a lot from it, both about Spanish and life in Argentina.

Buenos Aires is an endlessly fascinating city. There are dozen and dozens of impressive buildings, parks, plazas and museums. Before I came here I had very little idea of what a fully developed cultural, political and sporting life is centered here. Music, plays, opera, literature, visual arts are everywhere. The politics are more civilized now than in the terrible days of the dictatorships but they still seem chaotic to an outsider. (Just as an example--I have been told the reason the government can't provide enough coins is because their metal value is more than their face value. Sometimes the ticket offices in the subway run out of change so to avoid a riot they close the booths, open the gates and people ride for free). Futbol is everything in this town and there are several hugely important clubs here. Some of the teams are infamous for the lawlessness of their fans. River, currently the best team, is being punished for some recent violence by being forced to play some games in an empty stadium.

Bs. As. is huge, polluted, and noisy but there is an energy here that I have felt in few other places. Think Paris without the river or the tower, but with more buzz.

Last night I went again to the Bs. As. Symphony--another fine concert. Meghan went to "Rent" (in Spanish). This afternoon I am going to the film festival. There are venues for it all over town and it is only $2.00! This weekend I'll take some long walks and study Spanish--it's a great city for both.

Fall Weather

For the entire month of March and the first week of April the weather here in Buenos Aires was hot and blue skied. It was not unusual for the days to reach above 30 degrees and at night I would lie in sweaty sheets hoping that my little air conditioner could work a little harder. Then last week, the weather changed over night. The news stations were going crazy over the fact that in the countryside the temperature had dipped below zero and formed ice on the roads helping to facilitate even more crashes on the auto pista than normal. The temperature in Buenos Aires had even dipped to a cool 3 degrees before dawn. By the time I left for my Spanish class it was 16 or 17 degrees but you couldn't tell from the way that the Portenos were wrapped up. Gone were the bright skirts and strappy sandals of the day before replaced heavy wool coats and full length pants. There was an amazing variety of gloves, hats and scarves and it seemed as if the people were preparing for a winter in Montreal.

The cold only lasted for a few days. The temperatures rose back into the mid 20s but then the smoke came. The annual burning of the fields in the Buenos Aires delta got out of control and several of the fires jumped, and closed, major commuting routes. The smoke from the fires innundated the city and made everything hazy. The smell of smoke has even permeated into the houses. The government has issued a statement saying that the smoke is not toxic and that it should clear soon but there has been no sign of it's lifting.

Ciclo Joven

Dad has completed his first week of Spanish lessons at our school in Buenos Aires. I think that he has been enjoying his classes very much and I know that he was delighted to discover that there were several people in his class not too many years younger than himself. He has been studying hard to learn his past tense, indirect/direct objects, and comparisons. I have been studying (relatively) hard as well. I have now almost completed Level 4 and each week I am here the Spanish that the teachers speak with me becomes a little more rapid. I would like to think that I am able to operate in the language at full speed (which I can depending on the topic) but I have definitely had a few headaches with the increasingly difficult and subtle grammar points. We have been fortunate, in the interest of being good roomates, that Dad´s classes are in the morning while mine are in the afternoon allowing each of us to have a few hours each day to ourselves in our tiny apartment.


On Tuesday, while I was in class, dad managed to lock himself out of the apartment and since his key was in the lock on the inside he was unable to unlock the door even after he had come to the school to get my key. He ended up having to go through the apartment of our neighbour (who luckily happened to be the doorman on duty at the time) and scramble from his balcony to ours (we live on the 10th floor) before jimmying our backdoor (which we had tried, obviously unsuccessfully, to secure against intruders) open and climbing in. Dad seemed rather nochalant about his Macgyveresque antics but he was very excited to have learned the Spanish word for screwdriver destornillador in the process.

Most of our days aren't quite so dramatic. Much of our time is taken up with school, homework, going to the gym, going to the cinema and watching far too much television. We have also made many long rambles through the city. Buenos Aires is a huge place with multitudes of interesting streets to walk along and buildings to discover. On Thursday, we we to see the Buenos Aires Philharmonic Orchestra play some Nicolai Rimski-Korsakov, Ralph Vaugh Williams, and Franz Haydn. Unfortunately, the orchestra's usual venue, the famous Teatro Colon is closed for repairs this season and we had to see them in a rather standard, poorly lit concert hall but the concert was amazing. The orchestra had amazing tone and their playing was crisp, precise, and clean. The highlight of the evening for me was the cello soloist in the Haydn piece, Jose Alberto Araujo. He was so passionate about his playing and so obviously pleased to be there that he almost made me cry.

The Buenos Aires International Independent Film Festival is on this week and we have made several attempts to go. This week we are looking forward to taking in more Buenos Aires culture with a football game, some theatre and a tango show.

Home Improvements

Dad has settled into his new life in Buenos Aires. His luggage arrived Friday evening so we are now moved completely into our apartment. We are pretty happy with the place but have been making some small home improvements by tightening screws, rigging a new lock for the balcony door and jamming pieces of paper into the window frame to keep the glass from rattling in the middle of the night. Our biggest improvement by far has been buying some chairs and a table for our balcony. To buy these chairs we walked two hours to a store in Palermo and then walked 2 hours back with the chairs slung over our shoulders. The furniture wasn´t heavy but it was a bit difficult to walk down pedestrian-crowded sidewalks without accidentally whacking the odd passerby with an armrest.
Today is a lazy Sunday which we have spent reading the newspaper, studying Spanish and wandering around the deserted Sunday streets. Tomorrow the streets will be thronged with people but today everybody is at home resting up for Monday.

The New Apartment

Dad arrived on Wednesday, without his luggage. He has happily been watching movies in the cinema, attending his Spanish classes, and making small home improvements to our apartment. I had threatened before he arrived that we would speak only in Spanish. What has materialised is a mix of Spanish and English that, to be frank, has more English than Spanish. We will have to work on our Spanish speaking.
Here are some pictures of the new apartment and the school.

Moving Day

My father is coming to Buenos Aires for a month to stay with me and to work on his Spanish. The apartment that I had been renting for the last 6 weeks was totally unsuitable for 2 people, so yesterday I moved. Changing apartments was quite a stressful process. The fact that the water to my building was cut off 2 hours before I had to move making it impossible to clean the apartment (I washed the dishes with the water from ice cubes which I melted in the microwave) did not help either. Because I had not cleaned the apartment I was required to pay a 50 peso cleaning fee which meant that I no longer had enough money to pay the rent on the apartment that I was moving into. I had already maxed out my atm withdrawl limit for the day and changed every single American dollar that I possessed. Luckily, after standing in many Atm line ups I found a machine that would give me 50 pesos. It was day 20 of the dispute between the farmers and the government and the President, Christina Kirchner, was making a speech in the Plaza de Mayo. The streets were thronged with people and I waddled through the crowd carrying all my early belongings, which weighed considerably more than they did in my backpacking era just 6 weeks ago. I dropped off my bags at the language school and finished some last minute errands before going to my new apartment.

The new apartment is very nice. It is on the 10th floor and has a balcony (with not much of a view). It is the same size as my previous apartment but it uses the space much better. The kitchen and the television are not quite as nice but they are functional and have everything that I need. The best part of my new apartment is the location. It is 2 minutes walk from the movie theatre and less than 10 minutes to the language school.

Today, there were no classes at the language school because it is the 26th anniversary of Argentina´s war with the UK over the Falkland islands (here known as the Malvinas). I am taking the day to relax after yesterday´s running around and to wait for my dad´s arrival.

Protests

While the lifestyle of Argentina, and in particular Buenos Aires, is modern and in many ways similar to the way that I live in Vancouver, there is a political instability here that manifests itself in large public demostrations unfamiliar in my Canadian life. For the past 15 days there have been increasing tensions between Argentina´s agrarian producers and its federal government. These tensions have been simplified to the phrase ¨Campo vs Gobierno¨(The countryside vs the government) Every day thousands of people gather in the Plaza de Mayo to protest lack of funding or parade in the streets banging pots and waving banners. Major trucking routes have been blocked and there are shortages of many things on the shelves of the local supermarkets. One day there may be a shortage of eggs, the next a shortage of meat. The price of vegetables has steadily and noticibly increased during my 6 weeks in Buenos Aires. I have become desensitized to riot police, loud speakers and survellance helicopters. But despite all the protests, life here continues as usual in Buenos Aires and the people not involved in the fight continue on with their days just as before.

Note: As my Spanish skills become more advanced my ability to spell (in either language) is diminuishing quickly. Please forgive the atrocious spelling in this blog entry. I cannot find an English spell check.

Thoughts on a Month in Buenos Aires

Last night, during our weekly phone call, my parents informed me that it was my duty to update my blog. ¨Too many people have been asking about it and it´s driving us crazy¨ they told me rather melodramatically and I promised to update it, if only for their sanity. The truth is that after a month of renting an apartment and attending Spanish school here in Buenos Aires, life has taken on the routine of residing in a city rather than visiting one. In the first few weeks after I arrived I completely replaced my travel weary wardrobe and purchased long desired (but weighty) luxuries like separate shampoo and conditioner. I took the subway to every corner of the city and had fun discovering the nooks and crannies of my new neighbourhood. Now, I have a routine, I know the names of the cashiers at the supermarket, which paving stones to avoid on the walk to school, and the order of the stations on 3 of the 5 subway lines.
My days are mostly occupied with my Spanish courses. Until recently, I have been taking my Spanish lessons in the morning from 9-1 30 but now my lessons are in the afternoon from 2 45 -8 30. The Spanish school is very nice. It has high ceilings and an open air courtyard where we can sit during our break. The curriculum also deals with interesting and provoking topics that one is interested in discussing regardless of the language.
I feel that my language skills have progressed far above what my embarrassing attempts at learning languages in the past would have predicted but I am still far from fluent. In the class room I can understand almost everything that I read and hear but in the real world I am a little less successful. I still have trouble understanding extremely rapid speech and speaking (while correctly conjugating every thing) can be a bit of a challenge.

In another week or so my life here in Buenos Aires will change again. My father, who returned to Canada just over a month ago, has decided to spend a month with me in Buenos Aires working on his own Spanish and we are going to be room mates. It will be interesting to see how well we get along in the tiny apartment we have rented!

Buenos Aires

I last wrote a blog entry from the island of Chiloe in Chile. A week later, I am in Buenos Aires, I have rented an apartment and I have signed up for a month of Spanish lessons. This was not exactly the plan but I felt that I was drifting without a purpose and not really enjoying the process. So, 6 months after I arrived in South America, I was back in my first hostel. Looking around at the eager faces fresh off the plane, I felt like a seasoned veteran of the travel wars. I found the reverence with which these neophytes viewed me amusing but I did not have a lot of patience for their tendency to return to the room loudly at 4 30 in the morning. On my last morning I woke up with the guy from the bunk above me sleeping on the floor beside the bed. When I returned from breakfast he had moved into my bed and I had to wrestle the sheets (which I had to return to reception to get my deposit back) out from under his unresponsive body. I have had enough of hostels. My apartment is small enough that it has a fold up bed to provide more space but it does have a full kitchen, bath and air conditioner but most importantly it is my own space and after 6 months on the road that is a wonderful luxury.

Chiloe

The days following our journey on the Navimag were spent on the island of Chiloe, a charming pastoral island on the west coast of Chile. Our first stop was Ancud, a small bright city at the northern tip of the island where we relaxed by the harbour (when we weren´t running around frantically trying to secure tickets for mom and dad´s journey to Buenos Aires), went to a penguin colony, and simply enjoyed the beautiful scenery. Ancud, unfortunately, was also the place where my parents and I went our separate ways. After a celebration of Mom´s birthday, they made their way to Bariloche while I headed further south down Chiloe. I made a brief stop in the town of Quellon and headed back north to Castro. From Castro, I visited Chiloe National Park, a beautiful sand duned beach. Chiloe is a very scenic place with brightly coloured buildings, wooden churches, craggy coastlines, and fields full of sheep. It is a good place to relax for a few days. I am now back in the city of Puerto Montt. What a difference the weather makes in ones perception of a place! When I was here before, after disembarking from the Navimag, I found it dirty and unappealing but in the sunshine it is quite a pleasant city. From here I will head north up through the lake district and try and find somewhere to stop and learn more Spanish.

Navimag

We sailed nearly 1000 miles north up the fjord coast of Chile on the Navimag ferry from Puerto Natales to Puerto Montt. The trip took 4 nights and 3 days to complete but the time passed quickly with glacier sightings, movies, and 3 meals at regular intervals. The cabins were small but the beds were comfortable and we slept well at night. On the last day of the trip, the sun came out for a brief period and everyone found their way to the top deck to bask in it.

We arrived in Puerto Montt, a dirty, industrial city, and went directly out of it on the bus to the island of Chiloe. In Ancud we found a beautiful little hostel overlooking the bay full of brightly coloured fishing boats and took a tour in the afternoon to see the local penguin colonies (Humbolt and Magellan penguins, as well as, seals, otters, cormorants, sea gulls etc). Chiloe is a beautiful place to relax and spend a few days. Unfortunately, we have been a bit stressed trying to book bus tickets for my parents´journey to Buenos Aires which starts tomorrow.

8 days in Torres del Paine

Puerto Natales is a town beautifully situated on the mountainous fjord Ultima Esperanza in the far south of Chile. The buildings in the town are shielded from the famous patagonian wind by layers of brightly painted, but peeling, sheets of metal hammered on every surface. This town may be a major stop for tourists heading into Torres del Paine National Park but, unlike many other towns in Patagonia which rely on tourism, there is a strong community here based entirely on the port and the surrounding estancias. Puerto Natales cannot match the bustle of Buenos Aires or the tree-lined beauty of Mendoza but there is something in this cold, windy place that just might make it my favourite city in South America.

Torres del Paine National Park, just 100km from Puerto Natales, is one of the most spectacular places that I have ever encountered. We spent 5 days hiking the famous W trek and 3 more days kayaking on the River Serrano up to the Tyndall Glacier. It will go down in memory as one of the best trips I have ever had.

Our photos can be found at:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=92369&l=e5d77&id=802760462
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=92378&l=be56e&id=802760462
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=92382&l=b0aa9&id=802760462
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=92390&l=ca1ff&id=802760462
Sorry there are so many...it was so hard to leave out pictures!

January 31, 2008

After a hectic day in Puerto Natales organising ourselves for our 5 day trek in Torres del Paine and our 3 day Kayaking trip down the Serrano River we were packed up and waiting for our bus outside our campground by 7 30 am. Our packs, which had been considerably pruned of personal items, were heavy with provisions. We had heard that food was expensive and difficult to obtain in the park so we had gathered dehydrated soups, crackers, pasta, dried fruit and canned tuna from the poorly stocked, hiker-crowded grocery stores of Puerto Natales.


Big marshmallow clouds floated in the sky as we caught our first glimpes of the park. All of the guides that we had read about the W trek advised us to get off the bus at Lago Amarga and walk 7.5km down the road to Hosteria Torres. It was obvious that this was not popular advice. As other hikers hitch-hiked or bought rides, we found ourselves alone, trudging down the dirt road and then completely offtrail (due to dads misreading of the map). The off trail episode triggered a major hayfever attack which left me miserable and sneezing for many hours afterwards.
By the time we reached the trail that meandered up a hot, dusty hillside, we were footsore and discontent. The first refugio, Chileno, appeared, windmill whirring, like a paradisical mirage complete with water, electricity and a small concession. I bought a can of cold Sprite, which was sipped and savoured by the three of us like it was ambrosia.
We stayed at the Chileno Refugio long enough to watch a group of gauchos ford the river on their horses and gallop off down the trail.


The trail flattened and followed the river up the valley. In the trees, the temperature was much more bearable and the walk became pleasant. We set up camp at the free campsite (Campimento Torres) and then walked up to the mirador at the base of the torres. The last 20 minutes was a scramble up a rocky morraine but it was well worth the effort. Backlit by the late afternoon sun, the towers were spectacular and every dusty step with a heavy pack was forgotten.

Coming down, mom was tired from the long hike and off balance in the strong wind. She slipped and had a few scrapes and a bit of a jammed wrist.
For dinner we cooked lentil soup with canned lentils. Dad and I ate voraciously. Every gram eaten was a gram that we would not have to carry the next day.

February 1, 2008


I am well aware that I will not be the first person to comment on the Patagonian wind. Quite the opposite in fact, it is quite uncommon to encounter a piece of writing on this region that does not mention the wind. This is because the wind here is constantly noticible and variable enough to cause notice. The word wind, however, does not fully encompass the multitud of variations in moving air. Today, on our hike from Campimento Torres to Campimento Cuernos we experienced warm gentle wind, wind so strong that you can do nothing but stop and brace against it, sudden gusts, constant blowing rain and dust and even small twisters forming over lakes.

The weather yesterday was hot and clear but this morning the sky was threatening rain and the mountains were partially obscured in cloud. The wind came before the rain and flattened us against the side of the mountain, threatening to pitch us over the side. Then came the rain. Not a pouring rain but a slow, spattering drizzle that left everthing drenched even as the wind dried it. The path flattened out and wound along a hillside of small bushes and ground shrubs reminiscent of the English lake district. It was beautiful but the weather was harsh and more than one person we met on the trail wished us buenos suerte or good luck.
Our lunch of tuna sandwiches was prepared huddled in a clump of bushes where we hid from the storm.
Late in the afternoon, we came to a raging torrent that we had to cross. We had navigated our way across the first arm and were preparing to cross the second when a handsome, bereted gaucho jumped down from his horse waded into the flood, mindless of his personal dryness. He took my hand and my backpack across the river before wading back for mom. His actions were entirely unnecessary but very swashbuckling.

After the river crossing, we became very wet and cold. By the time we reached Campimento Cuernos we were shivering and soaked to the skin. We decided that after already hiking 19 km, the 5.5 more to our intended campsite at Campimento Italiano were too far and we met many more people who had made a similar decision. Mom went into the lodge to warm up while dad and I erected the tent in record time. I was very cold and it took many cups of tea to warm me. Mom stood by the woodstove and tried to dry our clothing. We had a pasta dinner in the tent. By the evening, the worst of the storm had blown away and there was a pink sunset framed by freshly snow-dusted mountains and a circling condor.

February 2, 2008

The wind buffeted and shook the tent all night long but we woke to a morning with bright blue sky and mountains with fresh snow. We walked 5 k.m. to Campamento Italiano and pitched our tent just 2 hours after we had taken it down.

We ate a lunch of canned tuna on crackers and headed up the Valle Frances (sans backpacks) to a mirador. On the way moms back spasmed and we had a bit of an argument on whether she should turn around or not. She didnt and I was a bit annoyed. I was even more annoyed that I was annoyed in such a beautiful place on such a perfect day. The mountains truely were amazing. At the mirador we were completely surrounded by breathtaking peaks. Each day here in Patagonia, the mountains I see are more and more impossibly beautiful.

Dad told me to go down the hill at my own pace and have dinner ready when they returned. I talked with some Aussie friends that we had made for more than half an hour and was worried that I wouldnt have dinner ready in time. I boiled the water and completely cooked the pasta and still they didnt return. I was beginning to get worried when, finally, they came into the campsite, mom nursing a bandaged knee. She had tripped over over a rock (or as dad claims, her shoelaces).

February 3, 2008

After moms apparent tripping, everybody in our little camp became a little preoccupied with shoelaces. Dad got out his scissors and surgically removed several centimetres of lace from both his and moms shoes and any lace that went untied, even for a quick hop out of the tent was commented upon. I thought the whole thing was a bit of an over reaction until the next day when I was walking along a flat bit of trail and the loop of my shoelace got caught on a root. I went face first into some low prickly bushes and couldnt right myself because of the weight of my pack and my unwillingness to put more pressure on the prickles in my hands. I stayed splayed face first on the ground until mom came along and freed my shoelace. Dangerous thing these shoelaces. Maybe my next pair of shoes should be velcro.

We stayed at Campamento Italiano an extra day waiting for mom{s leg to recover and the next day set out for our final camping spot of the trekking portion of our Torres del Paine experience. The ferry and campground at Lago Pehoe was only 7.5 km. from Campamento Italiano but it took us nearly two hours to complete with mom{s leg and the strong winds that threatened to blow us off the trail. At one point in the hike, we had to cross a small stream. Mom didn{t want to get her feet wet and put on her sandals. Before she crossed she tossed her shoes across (one forcing me to step into the water to make the catch and the other going directly into the water causing dad to charge in after it as it floated downstream.) All three of us walked away from that stream with wet feet.

The campsite at Lago Pehoe was rather exposed and we set up our tent wondering how it could possibly stay erect in the strong wind. I was very excited by a small mini food store which augmented our quickly dwindling food supplies with over priced bread, cheese, chocolate, juice and wine. The view from the campsite was a spectacular postcard view of the Paine mountains. Mom and I enjoyed the view, freshly showered, from the cooking gazebo while dad walked up to Glacier Grey and finished the W.



February 4, 2008


The trekking leg of our Torres del Paine experience has been completed and the kayak leg has begun. In the morning, we took a beautiful boat ride across Lago Pehoe and were greeted on the other side by German, our kayaking guide. We drove around 20kms to the River Serrano where we met the other members of our expedition, an Irish couple Anna and Darren. We were outfitted in wetsuits, booties, jackets, gloves, life vests and dry skirts, which felt a little ridiculous at first but soon became quite normal and watched as our stuff was stuffed into drybags and then into the tiny, little holes of the kayak. Mom and dad shared a double Kayak and I had a single to myself. After a safety demonstration (which I helped translate) we got in the water. The first few minutes were spent turning around in circles until I discovered the rudder pedals. We paddled along for about an hour enjoying perfect views of the Paine until we reached a waterfall in the river and had to portage the kayaks. While we ate lunch the wind picked up and made the water looked perilous.

German said that we should wait and finally suggested he would paddle each kayak to a spot that was much more suited to our paddling ability while we walked along the shore. We watched him take the first kayak drag it up on the beach and then walk back and paddle another. Miraculously, the final two kayaks arrived in a zodiac boat which had been passing up the river. They told us that the weather was quite rough further down and we ended up putting all 4 boats and 6 people into the zodiac and blasting along down the river taking air on the big waves. At the estuary of the Tyndall, we waded through knee-deep water, dragging the boats behind us and then began to paddle upstream. It was hard work and a few times we had to get out and drag the kayaks further upstream when the river was too shallow for our skill level.

We camped by the side of the river near Lago Tyndall. We set up our tents and German started to make dinner. None of us were used to going on trips where a guide made us dinner. Once we were in dry clothes, the 5 of us crowded around German while he cooked and offered to help. All we were allowed to do was pour some juice and open a bottle of nice Chilean wine. Our first course was soup, followed by rice and milanesas capped off with canned strawberries for dessert. The amount of food prepared could have fed twice as many people. We definitely are not going to starve on this trip!

The evening turned chilly and by the time we said goodnight at 10pm we were bundled up in all of our clothes.

I am very pleased so far on this tour. The gear appears high quality, the guide experienced, hard-working and trustworthy and the food is very tastey and timely. My shoulders are a bit tired from paddling upstream but I am going to bed very happy.

February 5, 2008

Last night the stars were brilliant. The air in patagonia is so clear and clean (being so far away from any major sources of pollution) and the stars seemed remarkably close. I may never have had such an unobstructed view of the sky before. It was breathtaking, if a bit disorienting with all of the unfamiliar constellations.

We arose at 8 am to a windy day. When German finally emerged from the tent he revealed that he had forgotten his sleeping bag (for only the second time in all of his years of guiding). I doubt that he had had a very comfortable night.



German, our guide is the type of man that you find in romance novels. Handsome, strong, adventurous, owner of his own business and Spanish speaking. 3 years ago he became the first person to kayak solo the more than 1000 kms from Puerto Natales to the tip of Cape Horn. The journey took him 78 days and, since he did not have permission from the Chilean Navy, was completely undercover. I admit I have a bit of a crush (did I mention that his pregnant wife is an absolute sweetheart?) More information on his tours and a photoessay of his adventure can be found at his website (http://www.tutravesia.com/)

The weather was too windy for us to paddle out to the Tyndall glacier so we walked along the shore instead. Then we sat in the camp and waited for the weather to change. Around noon 12 we struck camp and were back in the water by 1 pm. With both the wind and the current behind us we shot down the Tyndall river in a fraction of the time that it took us to paddle up it.

The Serrano river was choppy and treacherous and I thought that my small boat would capsize in the huge troughs of water. But, arms burning, we got through. Then, we had to follow closely behind German to avoid being caught in a strong river current and smashed against the rocks. The river was calm for awhile and we stopped for lunch in a little forest grove. After lunch, we continued on and then suddenly the wind picked up and the water became a mass of white waves. We had to fight to keep from being swamped and then, like a miracle, we pulled into a national park campsite complete with flush toilets a 5 minute walk from the beautiful Serrano glacier. Anna and Darrens kayak went past the beach and German paddled them down and jumped neck deep into the water to get them pointed back in the correct direction. The winds howled and white capped the water but we were safe on shore.

For dinner, German cooked us pasta and sauce and once again there was more than enough. The physical and technical challenges that I faced today in the kayak made me feel that I earned my dinner. I enjoyed the day extremely.

February 6, 2008

I awoke to a windy morning. It was immediately clear that paddling on those choppy seas was out of the question. Maybe an experienced kayaker could make headway but with the wind against us we would have been floating backwards. We took the morning easy and at 12 a tour boat arrived and disembarked passengers. We loaded our kayaks on board and were on the deck when it departed at 1 pm. The scenery it took us through was spectacular and the waves sprayed up around the boat. After about an hour the boat docked at an estancia. Feeling a bit out of place in our grubby clothing, we sat down at a beautifully set table with white linen and were served a parilla of lamb, chicken and sausage. It was delicious. The estancia was a beautiful place and the whole day filled my heart with a deep love for this region and its people that I think will stay with me for life. I do not expect this will be my last trip to the southern edge of the world.

A few more hours brought us into shore in Puerto Natales. We got back all of our bags from Germans office and were all very happy with the experience and completely buzzing about it for the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow, we will run errands in town and we will board the Navimag for our 4 day passage north. A new adventure begins but I am very sad to see this one end.